But he’d always had a weakness for people in trouble, and he knew in his bones this woman was.
Taking out some of his frustration, he slammed the hammer against another rotting board in the cow barn, sending splinters and bits of wood flying. That same weakness had sent him to Cole Wyman’s front door when his friend Noah Beal had told him Cole was out of the marines, back in Texas, and nearly suicidal. That Cole needed something to do to help him get his life straightened out before it was too late. Noah believed a job on the ranch would be the perfect solution.
Both men worked there now and were doing a terrific job. Noah was happy to be outdoors and Cole’s confidence was returning, his attitude getting better every day. They took pride in the work they were doing, something hard to find these days. Josh had money and because he did, he could afford to help other people, though he preferred helping those who were trying to help themselves.
As he slammed the hammer against another piece of rotten wood, he thought of Tory. Every time he caught a whiff of her perfume his groin tightened. Hell, he was as bad as the horse.
He blew out a long, slow breath. She needed a job, no doubt about it, but how many nights would he lie in bed thinking about her, lusting after her?
If she stayed, he’d have to find a way to take care of his needs somewhere else. Maybe he’d call Billie Joe Hardie, one of the waitresses over at Jubal’s Roadhouse. She was always up for a good time.
One thing he couldn’t do was sleep with Tory. Hell, he had no idea if she would even be interested, but the fact remained, he couldn’t have a physical relationship with one of his employees. It was bad business all around. Those kinds of situations never ended well, and he had a feeling Tory Ford would agree.
So he’d talk to her, work out some ground rules. If she still wanted a job, he’d find her something to do.
He found himself looking forward to the chicken dinner she was fixing. He wasn’t much of a cook himself; truth was he barely got by. Plus he was exhausted at the end of the day. Finding the energy to cook a meal was sometimes just too much trouble. It would be nice not to have to worry about it.
And there was the horse. The big black stallion would make the perfect stud for his mares if there was a way to tame him. Josh wasn’t willing to put the Ford woman in jeopardy, but the connection she and the horse seemed to share was definitely worth exploring.
That alone was reason enough to keep her on, at least for a while.
Knocking the last board in the stall aside, he walked over to the lumber pile and picked up one of the boards he’d already measured and cut to the right length. When he finished hammering the new board in place, he checked his watch.
The afternoon had slipped toward evening. Noah and Cole had already gone home. Another half hour and he’d be done for the day. Josh retrieved a second board and started pounding in nails.
* * *
Tory finished the salad she had prepared, adding a can of mandarin oranges from the pantry to the lettuce she’d found in the fridge. Walking over to the oak table in the big open kitchen, she straightened the pretty blue-checked place mat in front of one of the high-backed oak chairs, and tugged a matching blue-checked napkin through a blue glass ring. There was a nice set of white plates she planned to use.
She wondered where the dishes and linens had come from. Even the blue-flowered dish towels looked feminine. The living room, on the other hand, was masculine: brown leather sofas and chairs, a black-and-white cowhide rug in front of the fireplace, oak tables and bookshelves, a big flat-screen TV.
A photo book of horses rested on the coffee table, where Ivy sat on the floor coloring. Tory had noticed books on cattle and ranching in the bookshelves.
Maybe Josh had a girlfriend who had helped him pick things out for his new home. He’d told her he wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a woman. A man who looked like Josh could have his pick.
Tory didn’t like the little tug of regret that thought stirred. She sighed. It really didn’t matter if Josh was involved with someone or not. She wasn’t interested in Joshua Cain, and he wasn’t interested in her.
She just needed a way to make a living and a place to stay where she and Ivy would be safe. While they were there, she could formulate a plan, do some research, find a city where she could disappear and Damon Bridger would never find her.
A little voice warned she might be kidding herself. There was a chance Damon would never give up his search, that there was nowhere she could hide where he wouldn’t find her.
But surely even a person as close to crazy as Damon had turned out to be wouldn’t waste his entire life trying to exact revenge.
Her mind went back to the weeks after he’d attacked her in Phoenix. Damon had been arrested, but with the fancy attorney his father hired, he was out of jail in hours. She had stupidly believed beating someone nearly to death would result in at least several months in jail. Instead, he’d been sentenced to rage management, counseling, and community service.
She had never been safe from him again.
She thought of their last encounter and a faint shiver slid down her spine. How long had he stayed tied up? Had someone called the police? If so, was she wanted for a crime of some sort? Surely protecting yourself wasn’t illegal.
She sniffed as an odd smell reached her, frowned when she caught a whiff of smoke. With a shriek, she rushed toward the oven. As she opened the door, thick black smoke poured into the kitchen.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod!”
“The house is on fire, Mama!” Ivy raced in from the living room.
“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. It’s just the chicken.”Just the chicken? Ohmygod! Grabbing a set of pot holders, she pulled the carefully prepared bird out of the oven and set it down on top of the stove. She slammed the oven door but it was too late. The smoke was so thick she could barely see across the room, and the outside of the bird was burnt to a black, ugly crisp.
“Eww, Mama, it looks awful.”
